Driving to Duncanville
by LadyMaureen
Summary: Present day. Sam has a vision. Rating is for language.
1. Chapter 1

Driving to Duncanville

Dean adjusted his seat. He might as well get comfortable. It wasn't like Sam was a sterling conversationalist this evening. Strapped into the shotgun seat as the Impala sped onward toward Duncanville, Oklahoma, Dean's little brother stared straight ahead. Dean'd already tried teasing and even a quick shot to the arm. Nothing worked. No, Mr. Puppy-Dog-Eyes had a serious brood on this evening. Not that that was different or anything. Hell, Sam had probably found a way to blame himself for the poltergeist last week breaking somebody's window. If he was seriously depressed, Sam could blame himself for frickin' El Nino or something.

Sure, it couldn't be easy to have Destiny with a capital D hanging over him. And the other D word … not one but two. Dad and Jess, Jess and Dad. Though Dad's death was more recent, Dean didn't know which one Sam was thinking about. One had been their father. The other one was Sam's love … his hope, the bridge to A Normal Life, with 2.5 kids and a damn dog or something. Still, Dean was getting pretty sick of the silent treatment. But if he said something, he'd only say the wrong thing and hurt his little brother. The last thing, ever, he had wanted to do since carrying Sam's fat little baby self, slipping downward against his 4-year-old strength, down to the lawn. The lawn, where Dad met Dean. Where together the three of them watched the house burn.

Dean managed not to sigh by strength of will. Sighing was Sam's job, right? All angsty and shit.

All he wanted to see was his brother's smile. A real one, not a brief flash of dimples while ducking his head to hide the too-short glimpse of teeth. When he was a kid, Sam had had the brightest smile. Bouncy, goofy little kid, Sammy, before he learned that other kids his age had mothers and that their fathers stayed at home on weekends rather than taking off with guns and exorcism books.

Now Sam smiled sometimes. Guardedly. Sometimes Dean could make him laugh by picking on him. But that mood never lasted.

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Halfway there. Halfway to chupacabra-land, and what kind of world was it where they were going toward that nasty Mexican cryptid rather than running like hell away from it? Oh yeah, the world where they kicked some demon ass and kept it from hurting people. Well, hurting more people.

It was two a.m., and Dean figured it was time. He kept an eye out, then pulled off the road toward the orange neon vacancy sign in front of the dumpy little motel.

Coming out of the little office five minutes later, he nudged Sam. "C'mon, princess, your castle with fluffy featherbeds awaits!"

"More like rats in the walls await," said Sam, grabbing their duffles and following Dean inside the motel room. "Flip you for the first shower?"

"Hell no," said Dean. "I drove, you just sat there. Mine."

Sam breathed a sigh when the bathroom door shut and the shower started running. Sam cherished being alone, however short it would be. Sometimes being cooped up in a car with his brother in perfect silence was like being sat on by somebody else.

This time, though, he practically couldn't wait for the door to shut before pawing through his duffle for some aspirin. He found them and dry-swallowed four. It felt like his head was going to split in two.

If Dean saw him taking the pills, he would hover. And ask if Sam was okay. And look nervous. He might even let the words, "Are you sure it's not a vision coming on?" pass his lips.

God, Sam was so not in the mood.

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Later.

Dean opened his eyes and focused on the crappy little digital alarm clock on the bedside between the two queen beds. 5:13 a.m. Why was he awake? He could hear Sam breathing, and you better believe _not_ hearing Sam breathing was something Dean had nightmares about. It was deep and regular, the kind of breathing that usually meant Sam was dreaming.

Sam shifted slightly, then again. It took Dean a moment to figure out that's why he was awake. Sam kept moving every 15 seconds or so. That was pretty unusual -- Sam usually slept like a rock once you could actually get him to sleep, which happened less often since Jess and -- No. Dean was not going to think about that right now.

Sam was fine. He was even smiling a little in his sleep, the corners of his lips turned slightly up.

Dean began to drift again. Sam was fine. He was safe.

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Later still.

A moan woke Dean. He turned to look at the other bed. Sam's lanky body was curled in an impossibly tight ball. Sam's long hands -- hands like Mom's, so strong and capable -- clutched Sam's head.

"Sammy?"

Another moan, then silence and hard breathing. "Dean." Sam's voice shook slightly.

"You were dreaming. It's okay, go back to sleep."

The Sam ball did not uncurl. If anything, it contracted further. "I wasn't dreaming. Not really." This time the tremor was more pronounced, but it sounded like --

"Sam, are you laughing?"


	2. Chapter 2

Sam uncurled abruptly. He was laughing hard. When he tried to suppress it, he made a little moaning sound. That's what had woken Dean. Sam had woken up laughing?

Dean stepped out of bed and crouched by Sam's bedside. "What the fuck, Sam? What's so frickin' funny? I was afraid you were having another vision and having to fend off a demon!" He was caught between relief and being annoyed at being awake at 6:34.

Another burst of laughter, almost a giggle. "I _was_ having a vision. And oh God Dean it was so funny …"

Sam's laugh suddenly changed, was almost a sob. "And it sucked too. My God, she …." Sam abruptly began to rock, and the sound that came out was like keening.

Dean's heart sank.

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A girl. About his own age, maybe a little younger. With blond hair so pale it was silvery, and a prettyish face, set like stone. She was in a rage. He could see that, hell, could _feel_ that in his gut, though Sam knew he was nowhere close to her and had no business _feeling_ anything when his body was miles away.

Turning to face something Sam couldn't see, the girl said: "You want me to do what, now? Because I can't believe you want me to do something for you." A thick accent, maybe Texas, maybe Oklahoma. The tone was low, almost a growl.

An oily chuckle. "Now Jane, don't you want to fulfill your destiny? All my chosen children should want to fight by my side."

Jane was starting to shake, very slightly. "You killed my mother. You killed my sister when she tried to protect me." If that tone had been coming out of Sam's mouth, it would have felt like broken glass scraping his throat.

"Now you are alone, Jane. Don't you want to not be alone anymore?"

Jane's eyes widened even further. "I'm supposed to obey you because you take away everyone I've ever loved? I'm supposed to fight for the side of evil --" A breath. "Because then I can be with other freaks like me? Whose lives you poisoned?"

"Be fair Jane. I doubt you loved your mother much -- you were only six months old when she died."

Jane only stared, her body shrieking of profound rage.

"You should obey me because I can give you anything you ever wanted. You can be like a queen, Jane."

"Because queens called Jane have such a great track record," muttered Jane, snarkily.

"Come pledge your fealty to me, Jane."

The girl took a step backward, spreading her legs a little for a stable footing, squaring her shoulders. She opened her mouth and said --

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Sam took a deep breath, calming his breathing. He stopped the almost hysterical sounds coming out of his mouth -- crying, laughing, or whatever it was.

"She told him to go screw." Another short giggle, then a breath.

"I've been so _fucking_ afraid of him, Dean. I've been afraid I couldn't say no when he called. I was afraid I would be, you know, like a zombie. Doing what he said. That I wouldn't be able to say no. That I would hurt people …

"But Jane said no. She said that if she survived so long, she would spit in his face on the last day. That he should eat shit and die.

"I don't think anyone has ever said that to him before."

Sam paused. "Dean?" his voice was low. "I think she died. I think the demon believed she would never turn and killed her. But she went with a smile on her face. She would not go to him.

"Do you know what this means, Dean? We are not doomed. Us, the children. We can say no. I can say no. If she can, I can … even if I die."

Dean touched his brother's shoulder. "Not on my watch, kid. You don't die on my watch."

Sam smiled. He smiled like Sammy, the light in his eyes so pure and sweet that it took Dean's breath away.

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Hours later, Sam and Dean stopped for coffee. Nearly to Duncanville. And Dean had gotten Sam to smile twice without hiding his face.


End file.
